


Dealing with Dwarves

by raspberriesandrum



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always Listen to Balin, BAMF Hobbits, Canon-Typical Violence, Dwalin is a Good Bro, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Eventual Romance, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Drama, Family Feels, Female Bilbo, Hobbit Culture, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sister-Sister Relationship, Sisterly bonding, The Relative Significance of Mathoms, The Tale of Two Bilbos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4416050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberriesandrum/pseuds/raspberriesandrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self-confirmed spinster and fuddy-duddy Bilba Baggins wants nothing more to be left to her books, garden, her armchair and her same old routine, or at least that's what she thinks right up until thirteen rowdy dwarves and a wizard invade her home at the behest of her younger and mildly estranged sister Belba and turn her neatly ordered pantry and her neatly ordered life upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Especially Willful Wizard

If Bilba Baggins received one more letter of complaint regarding the annual reorganization effort of the Michel Delving Mathom House she was liable to scream and bother the wagging tongues of her neighbours.

As it was she made the executive decision to bypass her mailbox with its little yellow flag ominously upright and instead took herself and her pipe down to the garden bench to sit and take in some of the lovely air and sunshine the Hill had to offer on this particular day.

It was there, sitting quietly and enjoying a bit of a daydream and a full helping of Old Toby in order to relax her nerves, that she first encountered something quite a bit more problematic than the relative importance of mathoms—a wizard.

She knew he was a wizard from the first moment she saw him, and she could make a fair guess at his name too, him being dressed from the tip of his pointy had to the dusty toes of his travel-worn boots in drab grey, with the exception of a singularly soft looking silver scarf. The fact that he was an old man and leaned upon a carven staff was simply more evidence of the truth of the thing.

He stood just outside her gate, looking perfectly out of place in the placid greens and cheerful yellows of the late spring flowers and he was regarding her with a certain amount of expectation.

So, with a growing sense of trepidation Bilba bid him a polite: "Good morning."

"What do you mean?"

She levelled the wizard with an unimpressed look, "What do you mean what do I mean? It was my understanding that one wishes another 'good morning' in order to convey to them a polite hope for a pleasant start to the day, or is that not so for wandering wizards?"

"No indeed," chuckled the wizard, a twinkle in his eye, "There seems to be some exception when the common greeting is used upon wizards for inevitably I have found that when I appear at the front gate of an old acquaintance and they bid me a good morning for which the meaning is quite clearly that they want to be well rid of me and the morning shan't be good until I am on my way."

"Well, how frank of you to say so," Bilba commented, "Unfortunately now I can't help but wonder whether I ought to adopt that sense of it now and save myself the bother of the chat."

"Indeed?" said the wizard his bushy brows disappearing under the brim of his hat, "Now that is hardly polite Mistress Baggins."

"I only mean to tease a bit and well do I think you know it," she said sliding over a bit on her bench and tapped the cushion next to her, "Come now and have a seat then Master Gandalf, I've a bit more Old Toby about if you're of the mind for a pipe."

"Very generous of you," said the wizard, swinging open the gate without even bending for the latch, and settling his long frame on the other end of her garden bench.

Once the wizard was installed with his pipe well-packed and carefully lit with a tiny flame conjured at the tip of his fingers Bilba crossed one leg over the other, leaned back into the solid wood of the bench and fixed Gandalf the Grey with her most expectant look.

"Now Master Gandalf I would be quite interested to know what brings you back around to these parts after so many long years away."

"Nothing so suspicious as all that, my dear," said the wizard, "I am merely looking for a clever and courageous hobbit to share in an adventure."

Bilba frowned, but only slightly as this was about what she had expected, years ago her little sister—being of a more Tookish bent then her boring Bagginsy self—had begged their granther, the Old Took, over and over for tales of the adventures that their ancestors, distant relations, and even their own mother had been dragged off on. Invariably the wandering wizard was the one doing the dragging in such tales.

It was a good thing she had recognized the wizard, he hadn't been around since Bilba had been a fauntling, and the last time she'd seen him had been on Midsummer's Eve lighting up whizzpoppers for Old Took's celebratory party. She's heard that he had been by since then during the Fell Winter, but, well, Bilba could hardly be faulted for having other things on her mind at that time.

"A difficult task to be sure, given the givens. We Shirefolk aren't terribly interested in adventures as a whole, nasty, disturbing and uncomfortable as they tend to be, then of course there's the matter of rationing." Bilba gave a delicate shudder that wasn't entirely feigned and took a fortifying puff of her pipe, "No you would be far better off trying your luck over the Hill or across the Water."

"Perhaps," said Gandalf, pausing to shape his mouth around a darling little smoke moth that fluttered about on the garden wind for a moment, "But unless I am quite mistaken you are indeed just the hobbit I need on this sort of adventure."

"You are quite mistaken," said Bilba, feeling her heart stutter nervously in her chest at the very thought, "Quite mistaken indeed."

"Am I now?"

"Yes," nodded Bilba firmly, "Quite. Honestly I can't understand where you would even come up with such a-a preposterous notion. I beg your pardon but, well, come now, I am a Baggins of Bag End, surely even you can understand why I can't just toddle off into the blue?"

She widened her eyes at him in a way she knew was particularly imploring and worked wonders on her granther and a number of his associates who'd known her since she was toddling about with only the barest fluff on her foot.

"No I most certainly cannot," said Gandalf with not entirely unexpected stubbornness, "You are, after all, the daughter of Belladonna Took and I have seen for myself your spark of adventuresome spirit or do you forget I knew you before you were the respectable Mistress Baggins? You may have changed Bilba Baggins but you have not changed quite so much as you believe, and as I recall you were always eagerly running through the woods in search of elves, coming home hours after dark happily trailing mud and twigs and fireflies."

Bilba huffed out an indignant breath, and drew herself up to her full height, raising one authoritative finger, "Let me make myself perfectly clear, Gandalf, no. I am sorry but I have no need for adventures and have quite enough going on as is thank you very much!"

"Such as?"

"Things, Gandalf!" she said, throwing up her arms, "Duties, responsibilities. I've been selected to chair the Committee for the Annual Reorganization of Michel Delving Mathom House, and granther has me go out to Frogmorton once a month and inspect the bounders holdings there, and of course there are disputes and debates to settle among the Hobbiton families and if Lobelia Bracegirdle gets even a single foothold all the progress I've made between the Proudfoots and the Bolgers will have been completely ruined, and then of course there's my knitting circle and my garden—no, no, absolutely not, even if I wanted to, which in case I was unclear I most certainly do not, I am far too busy."

She nodded her head again sharply as if to say 'and that is that' and took another long puff of pipe smoke to settle herself down, it wouldn't do to be seen losing her temper in the mid-morning sunshine, folks would be calling her Mad Baggins again in a jot and all the work she'd done to polish up her reputation and good name would be completely in vain.

"I do hope you know that Old Gerontius is using you most abominably, my dear, at least a quarter of those duties do belong to the Thain of the Shire, or at the very least his wife."

"Granther is old," said Bilba stubbornly, "He can't keep track of everything by himself so Isengrim, Isenbras and myself all do a most of the running around."

"Admirable to be sure," said Gandalf, "But the Tooks have plenty of family to keep up with the duties of the Thainship, and I have great need of your assistance."

"Assistance," scoffed Bilba, "I hardly think anything in which I have particular expertise will wind up being even remotely useful during an adventure of all things."

"I will be the judge of that, my dear, and I'll thank you to leave me too it."

"I don't think that would be wise, seeing as how I wouldn't want to find myself trotting off towards the horizion with no real notion of how I'd ended up there."

"Now, now, I am not so bad as all that."

"You," said Bilba with uncharacteristic directness, "Are a meddlesome by nature so forgive me if I remain unconvinced."

"Really now Bilba, my dear, you are far too cynical for so young a hobbit, it's most unnatural."

"I prefer the term ruthlessly practical, if you please," said Bilba, unbothered by the grumbling accusation.

"Ruthlessly," agreed Gandalf with some wryness, getting to his feet, "I cannot tarry longer unfortunately as there is much to prepare if we are to keep our schedule. Thank you for the leaf and the seat, for that I will give you some fair warning. I shan't give up, it will be very good for you and between the two of us I have the sense that this venture cannot succeed without you."

"Such dramatics," Bilba said, seeing him to the gate, "Well I will tell you now Master Gandalf that I won't be swayed, though if you should like to come 'round for tea tomorrow you are welcome to do your worst. And a very good morning to you!"

"Til the morrow then Bilba Baggins."

And with a tip of his hat he was striding off down Bagshot row kicking up dust and trailing a plume of smoke like a chimney in high wind.

Bilba shook her head, reaching for her morning letters and pulling a face when she noticed that they were at least half of them formal letters of complaint. Suddenly she wished she'd invited the wizard to stay longer, at least trading barbs and hearing the beginnings of an adventure story would be better than the tedium of writing notes to every Linda, Rosie, and Amaryllis who wanted to know just what she thought she was doing rearranging the items in the Mathom collection.

The latest batch even included a thick document from the Mayor of Michel Delving's awful shrew of a wife who was no doubt stirring things up even as she stood around like a lump not getting things done.

And so it was with her mind firmly off wizards and set to the task of politely pounding some sense into her ridiculous neighbours and relatives—Lobelia would-be-Baggins had sent another missive pretending to be Cousin Otho—because another year of staring at finely painted porcelain cats was just not going to be on the agenda if she had anything to say about it!


	2. Good Green Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Belba turns up and Gandalf does a great deal of talking.

The next day by the time four o’clock rolled around Bilba felt very well prepared for taking tea with the wizard. She’d solved a number of problems the day previous and had had the morning to mentally prepare herself for the coming battle of wits. So it was, armed with freshly baked goods, impeccably brewed tea, and an outfit that included her lucky yellow waistcoat that she answered the knock at the door with a growing sense of confidence only to have the metaphorical rug ripped out from under her.

“You—I—B-belba, is that…you?”

“It’s only been five year Bils, you can’t have forgotten what I look like already.”

And yes that was very much Bels, from the snap in her musical voice, up into the ridges and creases of a hurt and angry scowl and right back down to the defensive cross of her arms.

She might have been forgiven for needing a moment however as Bels looked like an entirely different hobbit. She’d lost a great deal of  her plush curves, returning some of the gangliness she’d sported at tweenhood and her skin was fair covered in freckles but the wild mess of apricot colored hair no longer trailed behind her like a banner having been cropped to curl fetchingly about her ears and jawline. And all that was before the loose trousers, the plain unadorned and over-washed blue of her shirt and the mud-spattered hem of her long leathery looking coat and what the Big Folk called a light crossbow carried on her back. If it weren’t for the curls on her feet she would hardly know her for a hobbit.

She got the full effect of this as Bels turned to level a displeased look at Gandalf.

“This,” she declared, “Was and continues to be a mistake!”

There was the wizard standing idly by as if he hadn’t a care in the world, oblivious to or ignoring the outright hostility blazing up from the two hot-tempered hobbit lasses before him.

“Perhaps you’d better come in,” Bilba said pinching the bridge of her nose briefly, and standing aside to wave the both of them into her smial, “At least that way should I be incited to murder I’ll have some time to pack before I flee the Shire.”

“I do think you are both overreacting,” said the wizard, thumping his staff on the floor to punctuate the point and settling his hat on the top of the coat rack.

Bilba pressed her lips together and pointedly did not tell him to mind his head on the chandelier.

“Good green lady,” remarked Bels as she slipped out of her coat and set her weapon—and imagine her baby sister carrying a weapon of all things!—up against the wall with care, “I don’t think you’ve moved anything so much as an inch since I left.”

“I had the bathroom updated a little while ago and I re-painted the door, but I like having things the way mum and da left them,” said Bilba, feeling strangely defensive.

Bels hummed absently running a hand over their mother’s glory box and making her meandering way into the kitchen.

“Ooh, biscuits!”

“Help yourself,” sighed Bilba, smoothing a hand down the front of her waistcoat and admonishing it to be more lucky, “I’ll just put some tea on.”

“Thank you Bilba, dear, that would be just the thing, we’ve had quite the rambunctious morning.”

Bels had settled into the chair at the kitchen table that Bilba still mentally designated as Belba’s chair, and had the plate of biscuits in front of her and was making quick work of them. Bilba couldn’t help the worried flutter in her belly that wondered when the last time she’d eaten was.

“I’m sorry, Bels, if I’d known you were coming to tea I’d have done a set of meat pies to go with the biscuits, and maybe a plate of lemoncakes,” fussed Bilba as she set out the mugs and things for tea and put the kettle on the boil.

Bels just snorted, tucking her feet up under her butterfly style like a fauntling and leaning back in her chair, “Please sister dearest if we’re going to go through a full hobbit-style tea and discuss the food, the weather and the state of the roads I’ll just go take a nap and Gandalf can tell you all about how Nelllie threw her shoe and Kíli stomped too hard on the loose planks of the Little Bridge trying to imitate a troll and fell into the stream.”

“Goodness gracious!” said Bilba, alarmed, for the thought of falling into the water was somewhat alarming for hobbits who as a whole were poor swimmers, “Is this fellow alright? I’ll send a note around to the Puddlewents they’ve got plenty of Stoor blood in them and Basil and the lads will fix the bridge up right quick.”

“That won’t be necessary my dear,” said Gandalf in a soothing sort of voice, “Kíli was somewhat damp but in very good spirits and we left him and his brother to fix the bridge under Balin’s expert supervision. Dwarven craftsmanship is entirely unmatched and while the bridge may sport some, er, creative embellishments I’ve no doubt it will hold up most admirably.”

“Do sit down you hennish ninny,” added Bels, exasperated, “Here eat a biscuit, you’ll feel better.”

Bilba accepted the biscuit and forced herself to sit and just get a hold of herself, she needed to have all her wits about her! And bother the dratted wizard for bringing her sister into this whole mess, she was somehow sure that he knew that Bels was her one weak spot.

So with that in mind she took a breath and fixed Gandalf with her most disapproving look.

“I think, Master Gandalf, that you had best explain just what this adventure of yours is meant to entail and how it involves my sister,” she said, “I don’t mean to be rude but somehow I have the sense that the pleasantries are not at all in order here.”

“Oh ho, she’s on to you now Gandalf,” said Bels, leaning back and plucking up a jar of fat green olives from the sill behind her and popping one in her mouth, “Bilba Baggins never does away with the pleasantries, she loves that whole twisty word-game read between the lines nonsense.”

“Common courtesies are not nonsense, Belba,” said Bilba a bit primly, sitting up straighter in her chair.

“You are both quite correct,” said Gandalf, before the sisters could slip into a familiar argument as they might an old and well-loved coat,  “There is a time for courtesies and bandying wits but perhaps this is not one of those times. More’s the pity, for I do enjoy a good engagement of wits myself. But do tell me Bilba Baggins, what do you know of dwarves?”

“Dwarves,” repeated Bilba, drawing the word out a few extra syllables to give herself time to consider what exactly she knew about dwarves, “Well, I know as much as the next hobbit I suppose, not that that is much at all. There are a few that come through the Shire to do smithing in the villages or make their way into mannish settlements for trade but they tend to be surly and closemouthed. As a whole they don’t seem to think much of hobbits but Clementine Brandybuck has a dwarven beau tucked away somewhere according to the latest from Brandy Hall.”

Bels rolled her eyes at that but Gandalf was nodding a bit to himself, “A fair assessment, the dwarves are a very secretive race and they mistrust the other races quite a lot, the elves especially but men as well, for it was not so very long ago that they fell upon misfortune of the greatest kind and received little sympathy and no aid.”

“What sort of misfortune was that?” asked Bilba.

“A dragon,” said Bels succinctly.

“I beg your pardon, did you say a dragon?”

Gandalf shot Bels a quelling look and the younger hobbit rolled her eyes but picked up another biscuit and left the explanations to him.

“A dragon indeed. The last of the great firedrakes of the North was roused from its previous hoard by the prosperity of the dwarven kingdom of Erebor and in a single day there were thousands dead and the rest were forced to abandon their home and wander the wilds as vagabonds. Their alliances did not survive the fall of Erebor, and the dwarves believed that this was because they no longer had any claim to wealth, any who might have understood that the dwarf King Thror’s own arrogance and goldlust had left his allies disinclined to show their generosity died in the War of the Orcs and Dwarves, in the battles waged on the stoop of the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria, which has been overrun with dark things for centuries.”

“That’s quite awful,” said Bilba, blinking, “No one would help them at all?”

“Oh plenty men would offer aid and work, but the dwarves were expected to move on, to be with their own kind, meanwhile their own kind too took what refugees they could but the nobility of Erebor, particularly the royal family and their household and guard were expected to find their own halls and their own way and take back those refugees when they had done so. And so the dwarves of Erebor carve a lean existence out of the picked over rocks of the Blue Mountains trading their craft for the food they do not have the skill to grow.”

“Why haven’t more of them come into the Shire? Surely some sort of trading could be established?”

“Who would want to deal with the fusty old busybodies glaring out from under their bonnets and parasols?” snorted Bels

“Ahem, yes, well, as you both know the Shirefolk keep to themselves and are not unsuspicious in their habits, and the dwarves look down upon those without skill at arms,” Gandalf said diplomatically.

“There’s some resentment there, let me tell you,” added Bels.

“All the more reason for you to join our little quest, if only to give hobbits the chance to make a good showing of themselves.”

“Little quest he says,” Bels scoffed, “What this cagey, meddlesome old goat is failing to tell you sister dearest, is that this little quest of ours is to march halfway across the continent to the Lonely Mountain and enter the city through a secret door by way of a map that we can’t read, and then should we make it that far I’m to nick one particular sparkly out from under old Smaug’s smoking sniffer, so that the dwarf king can wave it at the rest of his lot and compel them out of their mountains to slay the beast for good.”

“Good green lady,” said Bilba faintly.

“Belba Baggins,” grumbled Gandalf, “I thought we agreed I was to break it to her gently.”

“We are on a schedule,” said Bels, “You were going too slowly, and we still have to cook for the hungry masses that are about to descend upon Bag End like a plague of locusts.”

Bilba swayed herself upright and out of her chair and took a deep breath in order to both steady her quaking nerves and draw herself up to her full, though not terribly impressive, height.

“Gandalf, just what is the meaning of all this?” she demanded, “I don’t see you for over twenty years and then you turn up out of the blue having swindled my sister into risking her life for what amount to a pretty rock? Are you quite mad?”

“Now Bilba—”

“Here now, there was no swindling—”

“Don’t you ‘now Bilba’ me! She’s barely past her majority and you’re taking her off where she’ll most likely be killed? I won’t have it!”

“I assure you there is a very good reason—”

“I’m not a child Bilba, and you’re not my mother,” Belba bellowed, bringing a hand down on the table with enough force to rattle the tea cups in their saucers, “I read the bloody contract and listened to the offer and do you know what happened? I made up my own damn mind because, like it or not, I am a grown bloody hobbit!”

A hush fell over the kitchen, as Bels attempted to glare a hole through her older sister’s neatly coifed head, and Bilba pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off her impending stress-headache.

“Bilba, I assure you I orchestrated much of this for a very good reason,” Gandalf started, carefully, not wanting to incite another outburst, “This quest is not just about the dwarves or their home, nor is it even about the great treasure to be reclaimed. There is a darkness stirring in the world once more. It the elder days the Lonely Mountain was a pillar of defense for invaders from the East, without the dwarves entrenched there we are vulnerable and if the Enemy were to enlist Smaug to his cause the results would be catastrophic. That dragon has sat there too long, and this is the best chance we are going to have to rid Middle Earth of it with so few casualties.”

Bels cocked her head with interest, not having heard Gandalf’s true motives in all the time she’d spent travelling with various members of the Company. He seemed determined to make the dwarves believe that this had been their idea all along for whatever reason and this was the first Bels was hearing of the greater purpose of the quest.

“Oh well then, by all means, lead my little sister to her probable death, Gandalf, go right ahead, it’s for the greater good of course I have no objections whatsoever since there will be so few casualties,” snarked Bilba.

Gandalf arched one great bushy eyebrow at her unadmonished, “Occasionally and far too often, Bilba Baggins, the cost in lives of ridding evil from this world numbers in the tens and hundreds of thousands. Would you prefer it if I had left well enough alone until the orcs and goblins were at your doorstep and there was a pressing need to muster the hobbitry-in-arms?”

“Do not twist my words Gandalf you know very well what I mean by my objections.”

“Then I’ll ask you to extend me the same courtesy,” said Gandalf, “I understand that you care a great deal for your sister, and I will tell you I do not relish the thought of leading her or any of the others in our Company into danger but it must be done, and I feel as though it must be done sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, yes, very well, but why does it have to be Belba?” asked Bilba plaintively.

“I’m telling you I volunteered,” Bels objected, “Don’t act like Gandalf had to drag me along by the ear, this was my choice. Aside from encroaching evil or whatever these dwarves are good people and they deserve a place of their own. A home.”

Gandalf inclined his head slightly, “Just so,” he agreed, “Originally I had planned on directing the dwarves to you and enlisting you to be our burglar.”

“I beg your pardon? Me a-a-a burglar?”

“Hobbits as a whole are light-footed and light-fingered, I’ve always thought that it was quite lucky that they had no interest in the criminal activities of the wider world,” chuckled Gandalf.

“Filching cabbages out of Farmer Maggot’s gardens, or lifting tarts cooling on the neighbours’ sills is hardly the same caliber of burglary as stealing a gem out from under the nose of a fire-breathing dragon,” Bilba said, settling her hands on her hips. 

“Well, no, the consequences of being caught are quite a bit steeper,” conceded Gandalf, “But Smaug has grown complacent, he has not been west of the Misty Mountains in an age and will not have ever encountered the scent of a hobbit before, giving you a distinct advantage.”

“That doesn’t answer the question of why you’d think I’d be inclined to do such a foolishly dangerous thing,” said Bilba crossly.

Gandalf eyed her consideringly, seeming to be weighing the merits of actually answering her question versus sending them all on another verbal run-around. Bels sat up a little straighter, her ears pricked with interest.

“Wizards are not blessed with foresight in the way that some few unlucky dwarves and elves are,” said Gandalf finally, “But there is a feeling that guides us, a sense of where we need to be and what we need to do. I am quite fond of saying that a wizard is never late, nor is he early, that he arrives precisely when he means to—but in truth it is that we arrive precisely when we are meant to. I have the sense that this quest cannot succeed without you, though I know not why that may be.”

Bilba sat heavily in her chair, head spinning, "What on this good green earth could I possibly do to affect the outcome of a quest?"

"A great deal, apparently, though a great deal of what remains to be seen," said Gandalf, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing encouragingly, "I have a great deal of faith in you my dear. And with both daughters of Belladonna Took involved in this endeavour I should think that dragon would be better off heading for the hills."

"I haven't agreed to anything you meddlesome old goat," sniffed Bilba, dashing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Of course not," soothed Gandalf, "I suspect Balin will have a contract drawn up for you when he arrives."

"Arrives?"

"For supper," Bels put in, "I invited everyone."

"You did what!" screeched Bilba, "How many people is everyone? Are they coming tonight? Skies above it's already past luncheon!"

"There are thirteen dwarves and then you me and Gandalf," Bels said with a shrug, "But they're really not a picky bunch as long as there's meat and ale."

"And you're just mentioning this now! We have to get cooking! Fifteen guests on next to no notice--"

Bilba was quick to surge to her feet and grab her apron from the hook on the wall, rolling up her shirtsleeves even as she went rummaging for her biggest serving bowls and their accompanying platters

"It's just dinner," said Bels, with a put upon sigh running a hand through her hair, "I'm sure you've got something in the pantry that will do."

"Belba Baggins, I thought I raised you better than that, well do you know I'm not about to serve guests a slapdash meal and since you invited them you are going to be helping with the cooking!" Bilba said brandishing a spoon with all the authority of a guard captain.

"Good green lady, this is why I left you know," snapped Bels even as she got to her feet, shrugged out of her coat and pulled the spare apron from the hook, tying it around her hips with a sloppy lopsided bow, "Nobody on the face of the earth except maybe Camellia Sackville subscribes to your notion about what is proper."

"There is nothing wrong with having a sense of aesthetics, taking pride in one's home, or making guests feel appropriately welcome--and contrary to your beliefs I do not make up stodgy rules and traditions just to punish you! We're going to need to empty the pantry--"

"Perhaps I will just take my leave," said Gandalf to no one in particular watching in bemusement as the two sisters zipped here and bustled there arguing all the while on every topic from the proper method of slicing tomatoes to the necessity of having one's smial cleaned and prepared for unexpected visitors.

And as he moved to shut the door to Bag End behind him he made a small mark on the green of the door, just to be safe.

**Author's Note:**

> SO I know fem!Bilbo AUs are a dime a dozen but I wanted to try my hand at one anyway and here we are, hopefully you find my Bilba original and engaging and if not, well, you can always tell me in the comments. I'm always open to suggestions and I'd love to know what you guys think!
> 
> *cross posting on ffn.net*


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